Lost Bretheren
by The Last Promethean
Summary: The Imperial Navy ship, the Star Chaser, was finishing its routine scouting run of the border along the Veiled Region before it had to return its unexpected guests. That was until an unkown ship from the Veil launched hostile boarding actions on the Star Chaser, it was then when the ship's unexpected guests, the Deathwatch, took up their duty to crush any xenos in their way.


CHAPTER .5: THE BEGINNING

"WE CAN'T GET an exact trace on it, but it's moving fast." said Justus Argos, the helmsmen of the Star Chaser. The Imperial Navy destroyer was conducting a routine scan of the veiled region, a portion of the galaxy that was made up of the gases of newborn stars. Such abundance of these elements renders it nearly impossible to traverse the region, virtually all of which hasn't been touched by the Imperium. During the Great Crusade, fleets only skimmed the surface of it. Many uncharted civilizations, human or xeno, could in fact exist without any outside temperance of the rest of the galaxy.

"Is it Imperial?" asked Hellion Kayos, captain of the Star Chaser. The soft green glow of readouts on a panel in front of him shrouded his features in darkness.

"I fear it is not, sir," replied Argos as he looked up from a viewscreen that was feeding him sensory readouts. "whatever it is, it sure isn't human."

Kayos turned from Argos to set his gaze on the button of his vox unit. "Xenos." he said to himself with no tone of fearfulness at all.

Argos kept his eyes on the shadowy figure of the captain in front of him. "Actions, sir?" he asked.

"We use our 'guests of honor'." replied Kayos in a stern voice as he opened a vox channel with their "guests of honor" aboard the Star Chaser.

"The Astartes?"

"Not just any Astartes, the marines of the fabled Deathwatch."

* * *

SYLVAN MORIN STOOD at the center of a ring of Astarte, he was their acting leader. The group of Deathwatch was on a mission to destroy a dangerous cartel of humans who worked closely with xenos races that had the ability to exit their home of the veiled region, their business was using xenos technology and wreaking havoc among local worlds. The Deathwatch were sent in to crush the cartel and their xenos allies and release their tight grip on the sector.

The marines suffered heavy casualties in wake of an ambush of heavily armed xenos towards the end of their mission. Though complete they were down to their last man and had no way of escape, that's when the Star Chaser came by to investigate word of non-imperial activity on the border of the veiled region.

"My brothers in arms," began Morin with outstretched arms. "We have gained word of a xenos ship that has entered a course of assault on this vessel. However we do not know if they are the same xenos we encountered back on Station Iryll. What I do know is that it is our duty to ensure humanity can prosper in wake of an xenos free galaxy, so we shall carry this duty on by protecting the Star Chaser with all of our willpower that can be salvaged.

Do not let the past obscure the present, or the future. We are the Deathwatch, we are the best damned Astartes ever to serve under the Emperor's will and carry on his laws."

Just after the end of Morin's speech, the claxons went off and the call for battle stations was given to all hands. It was time for the Deathwatch to show these xenos scum that they have boarded the wrong Imperial ship.

"To arms!" yelled Morin as he broke from the throng of Astartes, the golden omega of the Ultramarines on his shoulderpad shone bright in the ship's light. He advanced out of the room and jogged down the hallway with his remaining Deathwatch behind him, he had his orders from the captain- kill.

TYROS BONDMAN HELD his lasgun as if it were his only chance of survival. The men of the seven eighty-ninth did not hold such jobs of intergalactic war against xenos heathens, no, their jobs was more of a national guard. Sent to destroy any quells of rebellion, or keep order here and there. This was the first time Tyros and his detachment of the seven eighty-ninth met face to face with anything that wasn't human. In fact if it wasn't for the Astarte clad in midnight black that stood by his shoulder, he would have turned tail and ran before the bulkhead in front of him even gave way.

Tyros's squad was backed by two Astartes, they both sported black armor and the cog and skull on their pauldrons. Though one marine held a black fist backed by a golden yellow on one of his pauldrons, while the other marine had a crimson red fist with a deep blue backing it. Tyros observed as both marines did their battle rites and in hushed tones, they exchanged praises of their Primarch, Rogal Dorn.

The two large warriors captivated Tyros in much of a hypnotic way, even when the time of judgment came and the bulkhead was breached by the xenos intruders, Tyros kept an eye on the two Astarte.

One of the marines began to lay down heavy fire through the smoke and dust the blast had kicked up, the sound of his bolter was nothing like Tyros has ever heard. Each shot shook his bones and applied pressure to his eardrums. The aw of firepower in one man's hand was too much for Tyros to take in.

"For Dorn!" yelled the other Astarte over the sound of heavy fire, he too began to put down heavy fire on the bulkhead with his bolter. Not much was needed by the few men of the seven eighty-ninth since just two Astarte was just enough to keep the xenos back.

Tyros finally turned his eyes from the marines and set them upon the bulkhead, it was completely disintegrated from the blast and beyond was as dark as the armor of the Astarte beside him. He couldn't get a good look at the enemy, he only saw shadowy figures being torn apart by the large caliber bolter rounds. Though something trailed out of the reaches of the darkness at immense speeds, and in reaction one of the bolters went silent.

In an instant, Tyros shot a glance at the Astarte closest to him, only to set his eyes upon some sort of powersword lodged into the marine's faceplate. His bolter went silent and he dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

The Crimson Fist did not acknowledge the death of his brother, he insisted the Guardsmen around him to keep up the fire before being met by a similar death to the Imperial Fist. A brilliant streak of blue extended from the dark hole in the bulkhead and met the marine's eyepiece, silencing his bolter too followed by a thud of him dropping to the ground.

Tyros ducked under cover and pushed himself back behind a large crate that was out of the way of the bulkhead so the xenos couldn't see him, he kept his eyes on the two dead Astarte and did not break contact.

In the confusion of the line breaking, and Gaurdsmen retreating only to be slaughtered by blue las shots, a humanoid figure climbed over the barricades. It stood a good six or so feet tall and wore sleek powerarmor that was painted in metallic steel. It adorned orange stripes of what only could be rankings, squad indications or its general combat role. The xenos walked over to the Imperial Fist and pulled the sword from the dead Astarte's helmet and shot a glace at Tyros. At this point Tyros never felt as much fear as any time of his life, he pointed his lasgun at the xenos with violently shaking hands.

The xenos turned and slowly walked towards Tyros and knelt before him, grabbing the barrel of his lasgun to stop him from shaking it. Tyros looked from his lasgun up to the xenos infront of him and in a moment's notice it bent the barrel up towards the ceiling with ease.

"I am sorry, brother." it said in accented Gothic, its helmet folded back on itself to form a hood revealing a human face.

"You're-" Tyros was cut short as the man dug his combat knife deep into Tyro's neck without notice and at speeds only seen in a marine.


End file.
